A while ago I blogged about The Reichenbach Fall and my theories on how Sherlock ‘died’. As predicted we never did get to find out, but that’s not what I want to talk about tonight. I mentioned very slightly the fact that it was possible that Moriarty also was not dead. Part wishful thinking but also fairly obvious; as I said then, if Sherlock was genius enough to fake his own death wouldn’t Moriarty? It was taken for granted that he died and yet no reports, no references, nothing. Almost like they wanted us to forget there ever was a Moriarty. I’ve learnt when Moffat makes you look the other way it means he’s up to something really big. Not only that but when writing season two Moriarty was given a bigger role because he was so popular. Why build up a character and then kill him?
You can imagine my reaction then when the final twist in His Last Vow was revealed. I took to Twitter with this statement;
— Regina Giraffe (@Thessaily) January 12, 2014
which seemed massively appropriate. I nearly texted my sister the same but remembered etiquette enough to check she had watched the episode before accidentally spoiling the surprise. My parents were treated to the best reaction of the night; there was muttering, shouting and the usual jumping up and down. No really, it’s how I watch TV I really like. Over the years my family have got used to this. If I love a show, I mean really love a show, I completely lose myself in it. The first time I watched Doctor Who with my parents – I mean new gen Doctor Who, old gen I mostly watched from behind a cushion – my mum remarked several times that she didn’t think it was normal. She even discussed it with my sister who has endured years of it. I shout, I cry, I fidget, I can’t help it.
I knew something was coming when Sherlock got on the plane, they’ve confirmed there’ll be a fourth and fifth series. Therefore it wasn’t over and experience dictates the series always ends on a cliffhanger and so; cut to bar, interference on the TV and my heart vacated my chest to take up residence in my mouth. I sat up straight, not good enough, I crouched on my seat. My dad, who is sat next to me glances nervously, you can tell he knows there’s going to be an outburst. My hands fly to my mouth as a voice repeats that mantra “did you miss me?” over and over, not a recognisable voice but I think I know, oh Gods I hope I know. Mycroft gets in the car and I’m chanting “oh my Gods, prove me right, prove me right…” Over and over, both parents looking nervously at me and then “YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH”, the dog runs for safety, I grab slight airtime off the sofa, “I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!!!!!!!!”, “I FUCKING TOLD YOU, AAARRRGGGHHHH” my parents glance first at me then at each other and sigh, I gibber, I hyperventilate. I do not act like the 36 year old I am.
Well played Steven Moffat, well played. I thought I was excited about season three but you sir, you just upped the game.
AFTERWORD – My dog has only just forgiven me, I’m not entirely sure I will sleep tonight I am so ridiculously excited and I fully expect to look this post over in the morning and discover it all to be gibberish. If that is so I offer my sincerest apologies.